


Death

by daaarkknight (orphan_account)



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 01:00:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21818548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/daaarkknight
Summary: There is a reason no one has been able to make Batman settle down.He's already felt the arms that will hold him last.
Relationships: Bruce Wayne/Death
Kudos: 14
Collections: 8. Gotham ships Bruce Wayne x Batman, Batman, BatmanFanfiction, Favorite Batman Fics, batman orignal characters





	Death

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FabulaRasa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FabulaRasa/gifts), [Mithen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithen/gifts), [LemonadeGarden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemonadeGarden/gifts).



Death is a jealous lover. 

Bruce is even more jealous of one. 

He holds Death curiously. She turns away shy eyes. 

_"_ I will never let anyone else touch you."

_You will try._

Wherever he goes, she follows. 

She is smitten. 

She wants to touch him, feel his bones. He lets her. 

Death is a lonely girl. 

_Everything I touch, wilts._

_Why?_

"Don't touch. Any more."

She sighs. Looks down, her hair gracefully filling out her shoulders. 

_Such things are complicated._ _You know that._

 _"_ What does that even _mean?_

"Why can't you just stop?

"Why am I not enough?" 

She looks infinitely sad, infinitely far away. 

_I have touched you. I_ will _touch you._

_But not today._

He tries to keep her from meeting anyone else before their time. He does not succeed. He tries anyway.

He builds hospitals. He builds shelters. He spends his money, trying to buy time. It's not enough. 

Death follows him around like a childhood sweetheart. 

_Batman doesn't do romance._

Catwoman. Talia. Silver. 

He turns away. From them all. 

Too much love. Too many expectations. Too much laughter. 

Too much life. 

They see Death in his picket-fence smile. In the scars he hides in his pocket. 

In the vast quiet of his voice, they hear echoes of another. The way he is sometimes distracted. The aimless stare they sometimes catch, except it only _seems_ aimless because he's looking right _through_ them. They look away. They don't know why. 

There is a reason no one has been able to make him settle down.

He's already felt the arms that will hold him last.

A lifetime ago, in a now-famous alley, a young boy knelt. Sent out a cry into the night. That's how it went. 

At least, that's what they think. 

He meets Death. He looks her in the eye. 

"Hello."

Death wonders who the pleasant young boy with the hole in his chest is. 

"What's your name?" she asks him, kneeling down to peer into the gaping flesh. 

"Um...Bruce." He says. He looks down, surprised. 

"Hello, Bruce. I'm Death."

He smiles. _Actually smiles._

"You're pretty."

"Thank you."

Another soul is calling. She has to say goodbye. 

"Aren't you going to bargain for your soul?" 

"Do people usually do that?" 

"Well...yes, actually. Quite a few do. Try, at least."

"Oh. What will you give me in return?" 

"Honey, it's about what _you_ will give me."

"Oh. I thought you wanted..." he looks thoughtful. 

"Did my parents make it?" he asks finally, holding his breath. 

Her face softens. She shakes her head. 

"I'm sorry."

Bruce crumples, fingers crushing into his chest, into the red shards of flesh, into the still heart.

"I'm meeting with them next," she says. "I can pass on anything. Anything you want to say."

Bruce stills, and looks up.

"Really?" he says, tears drying in his eyes.

She smiles. "Really."

"Okay."

"Take all the time that you need. We're in no hurry."

Bruce thinks for a minute.

"I want you to tell them," he says, "that I'm not dead."

Death looks at him.

"Why?"

He indicates his heart. His shirt. His soul. 

"Look what it has done to me.

"Tell them, please. Promise me.

"Tell them I am kneeling in that alley, holding their bodies to my chest.

"Tell them my heart still beats."

"Okay." Death says. "Okay.

"I will."

"Thank you." The boy smiles sweetly.

Death feels something _...odd in_ her chest. Like a lightness, except it feels cold, and heavy, like flint. Like mourning.

But Death never mourns. Mourning is for the living. 

She wants to embrace the boy. But that is funny. What would she get by embracing him? A funny smell, that's all. Cold flesh.

"There's just one small hijink," she says.

"You see, for all my power, I am powerless to lie."

Death approaches the boy. 

"Everyone who touches me goes. 

"But if you are already gone, I suppose...

"I _could_ kiss you."

Bruce gets up. His parents are lying in a cold metallic puddle, crimson in the moonlight.

He lets out a scream.


End file.
